


From the Mountain's Heart

by Findswoman



Series: The Lasan Series [6]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Action, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Honor Guard, Lasan, Lasat, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findswoman/pseuds/Findswoman
Summary: A young Zeb Orrelios, now a gifted Senior Lieutenant in the Lasan High Honor Guard, embarks on a side quest of his own during maneuvers. Almost all the OCs (Captain Halmarr Porifiros, Sr. Lt. Barogroz "Groz" Spargstaung, Mid. Lt. Gunvar Ankole, Jr. Lt. Velibor Ahenobarbus) are borrowed with gratitude from Raissa_Baiard; there will be other mentions of OCs of both hers and mine.





	1. Chapter 1

_Hew hard the marble from the mountain’s heart_  
_Where hardest night holds fast in iron gloom_  
 _Gems brighter than an April dawn in bloom . . ._  
—A. C. Swinburne, “John Ford”

 

* * *

  
**One**  
  
“Ahenobarbus!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
“Ankole!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
“Orrelios!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
Senior Lieutenant Garazeb Orrelios saluted crisply as his name was called. He and the eleven other members of his unit, the 8th Squadron of the Third Honor Guard Division, stood at attention outside Honor Guard Mountain Warfare Station Aurek, in the foothills of the the southern Basalt Mountains. It was the early hours of the morning and the air was icy, but Zeb was eager and alert. Once the roll call and workout were finished, Captain Porifiros—a grizzled, square-bearded Lasat who was built like a mountain himself—would assign them their first reconnaissance exercise in this region. The Basalt Mountains dominated Lasan’s Southern Hemisphere, and their southern reaches in particular were known for their immense mineral riches, their intricate networks of caves and pits, their majestically treacherous slopes, and the icy winds that howled constantly over them. Ever since the 8th had been deployed to the southern hemisphere over a year ago, Zeb had been looking forward to duty in this particular mountain range—naturally because he was eager for the thrill of action and challenge of the terrain, but there was another reason in his mind as well, one known to only a few of his comrades...  
  
“Spargstaung!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
“Stultzfoss!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
“Uballidees!”  
  
“Sir, present, sir!”  
  
“All right, Guards! Series of five, then twelve around the perimeter! Move it, you wimpy kits!”  
  
With that, the routine morning workout began: twenty each of push-ups, sit-ups, left side-bridge thrusts, right side-bridge thrusts, and squat thrusts, each set alternating with a fifteen-second sprint. This was followed immediately by twelve five-klick circuits around the perimeter of Station Aurek—a route that comprised not only uneven, rocky ground and treacherously steep grades but also several vertical or near-vertical cliff faces that would take all four prehensile appendages to scale. Zeb figured it would take him and his comrades at least a couple hours to complete the course—plenty of time to think up a plan of sorts. He was pretty sure he knew where the nicest specimens could be found; it was just a matter of whether Captain Porifiros would actually assign them there...  
  
“2:36:17.7!” the captain barked as soon as the 8th had reassembled on the grounds of Station Aurek. “Hmphh! Not bad, not bad, but in my day we averaged 1:58:22.3! And that was in blizzard conditions with a headwind! I wonder if you pathetic milquetartes could beat  _that!_ ” Some of the younger Guards shifted uncomfortably at this tirade, but Zeb just smiled to himself; Captain Porifiros always talked like this. “All right, now listen up! Today you’re gonna divide up into subunits and perform standard recon and charting on the eastern slopes of Mount Sketh! Monazro, your men got the southeastern ridges. Spargstaung, you got the central slopes and secondary peak. And Orrelios, central forest region through summit. I want a full preliminary report on topography and tactical viability by 1800 tonight! Think you stripeless sissies can manage all that?!”  
  
“SIR, YES, SIR!” twelve young male voices shouted. This was exactly the kind of mission Zeb had been hoping for, and he would almost certainly have enough time to find what he was hoping to find. He was eager to grab his gear and get started. But the captain continued.  
  
“Now since this is Mount Sketh, just a word to you young fellas about, er, hunting for, er,  _souvenirs_  of a certain kind. ’Cause I know at least a few of you are in the market for that.”  
  
He looked directly at Zeb as he spoke. Some of the others stifled snickers, but Zeb felt his face and ears turn warm. Aw karabast, the captain knew, didn’t he? Was this whole thing going to be a wash?  
  
“The ‘just a word’ is this: you can look for shiny rocks an’ such as long as it doesn’t distract you from your assignment. You’re Honor Guards an’ I trust ya. Somethin’ the matter, Orrelios?”  
  
A few snickers arose again. Zeb hadn’t even noticed that he had breathed a long and fully audible sigh of relief till the captain had spoken. He snapped to attention. “Sir, nothing at all, sir.”  
  
“Good to hear, Lieutenant. I was worried there for a sec.” There was yet more stifled laughter, but Zeb thought he saw a subtle wink from his commander. “All right, Guards, dismissed! Reassemble in full gear in fifteen minutes sharp!”  
  
The members of the 8th dispersed and headed to the barracks building to equip themselves. Zeb went to his gear locker, which stood directly across from his bunk area, where he buckled on his chest, back, and shoulder armor, then fastened on his wrist bracers and knee guards. Next he attached his belt pouch and checked that it contained all the necessary items: utility knife, grappling hook, spare ration packets, field scanner, portable medkit. He was on the point of taking his bo-rifle down from its rack when a sudden blow to his upper arm sent him reeling.  
  
“KARABAST!” Zeb spun around to face the stocky, burly form of his old Military Academy mate, Middle Lieutenant Gunvar Ankole, who was guffawing throatily. “The Bogan was that supposed to be, Gunvar?!”  
  
“Aw, it’s Senior Lieutenant Nuzzlecat himself! We know what  _you’re_  gonna be looking for during maneuvers, don’t we, Vel?”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course we do.” A debonair Junior Lieutenant, whose abundant facial hair was trimmed in a dandyish bantha-chop pattern, sidled up beside Gunvar: Velibor Ahenobarbus, another one of their academy mates. “It’s been a  _loooong_  time coming, hasn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, and?” Zeb scowled, arms indignantly crossed. Just his rotten luck that both of these prize moof-milkers belonged to his subunit. “What’s it to you?”  
  
“Zeb, Zeb. My dear fellow.” Velibor put an arm around him; Zeb bristled. “Take a tip from an expert. Don’t bother with this whole hunting in the mountains business. We’re modern men now. Just order some pretty crystally thing from Suarovik’s and have done with it. Nine out of ten of ’em don’t know the difference anyway.”  
  
Zeb gnashed his teeth, too angry to form words. Part of him wanted to thrash Velibor to a pulp right then and there for even daring to make such a karabastical fool suggestion. But a true Honor Guard must keep calm in the face of adversity, and all that… “An’ just how many times have  _you_  done this, Vel?!” he managed at last.  
  
“Oh, wouldn’t  _you_  like to know!” Velibor emphasized this utterance with an elbow to Zeb’s ribs before swaggering off to his own gear locker. Gunvar followed him, still guffawing. Zeb swore under his breath as he rubbed the spot where he had been elbowed, then finished fastening his bracer around his wrist. It was then that he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Hey there, pal.”  
  
Zeb looked up to see that a third of his academy mates had come up beside him. Senior Lieutenant Barogroz Spargstaung, a lanky beanpole of a Lasat, was Zeb’s bunkmate and had a subunit of his own. “Don’t pay any attention to those two. I think they’re just jealous. Especially Junior Lieutenant Bantha Chops there.”  
  
“Ugh, Velibor!” Zeb growled, clenching his fists. “I wanna  _strangle_  him sometimes! The way he talks—”  
  
“I know, I know. But don’t let him get to ya. You’re doin’ everything right.” He slapped Zeb cordially on the back. “I just hope I’ll do half as good whenever it’s my turn.”  
  
“Thanks, Groz.” Zeb returned the gesture. “You will. I know it.”  
  
Groz headed to his own locker. Zeb took down his bo-rifle, slung it behind him, and made his way back outside to the parade grounds, fully equipped and ready for action.  
  
**to be continued**


	2. Chapter 2

For Zeb and his subunit, the recon exercises were going smoothly. The four Guardsmen—Zeb, Gunvar, Velibor, and one Corporal Tarbigron Stultzfoss, a fairly recent Military Academy graduate—had spent the entire morning in the central forest region of Mount Sketh scouting the terrain, taking sensor readings, practicing combat and rescue techniques, and assessing the tactical suitability of the area. With the forest region covered, they were now heading above the treeline to begin their reconnaissance of the summit area. Weather conditions so far were tolerable, with temperatures hovering just around the freezing point; there were a few clouds, and enough of a wind that the four had to grip with their toe-pads even while walking on flatter ground (causing Velibor to complain at several points about cramping), but at least visibility was generally good.  
  
But Zeb was disappointed in the vaunted mineral riches of Mount Sketh. With the exception of occasional small outcroppings of cloudy, brown-yellowish quartz—totally unsuitable for the purpose he had in mind—everything he had seen so far had been the same uninteresting gray mountain rock. Perhaps, he considered, more interesting mineral specimens were to found around the mountain’s base, closer to the ground. Once again, he wondered if Captain Porifiros’s decision to assign him to the summit was deliberate, done to keep him from becoming distracted or whatever such poodoo. But the Honor Guard topographical map of the mountain loaded onto his datapad showed a very likely looking cave or cavern or something on the north face of the the summit region, so perhaps there was still some hope… Whatever happened, he knew there was no way he was going to resort to ordering from Suarovik’s—not for something like  _this._  
  
At least Gunvar and Velibor, thank the Ashla, had not given him any more guff about it. Zeb found that they were decently tolerable as long as they were kept busy. He often would send the two of them off to scout and take readings together while he coached Corporal Stultzfoss on mountain survival techniques. The terrain had been somewhat of shock to the system of the young, homely Guardsman, who originally hailed from a quiet village on the northwestern shore of Lake Yabsh. He had started to feel the effects of the altitude even back in the lower parts of the forest region, but felt much better after Zeb shared a few of his oxygen tablets with him.  
  
“How’re you holdin’ up, Corporal?” Zeb asked him as they clambered along the jagged slopes. They were not far from the summit now, though the wind was picking up and the sky was becoming more overcast.  
  
“Sir, pretty good, sir,” came the response. “Though sir, if I may say so, sir…”  
  
“Yeah, go ahead.”  
  
“Sir, this is the funniest smelling mountain I’ve ever been on, sir.”  
  
Gunvar came up alongside the corporal and thumped his shoulder. “That’s ’cause you’re pickin’ up Ahenobarbus’s VibroAxe spray. ‘Purple Temptation.’” His barrel-like chest swelled as he declaimed those two words in an exaggerated and dramatic manner.  
  
“Shut up, Ankole,” Velibor retorted. “This ozone’s still better than your post-workout besh-osk. Karabast, a bantha’s  _hind end’s_  still better than your post-workout besh-osk.”  
  
“All right, cut the chatter, you two,” Zeb ordered. “Yup, Corporal, that’s ozone. An’ quite a bit of it, too.” His own face screwed up quizzically as he sniffed the air; the smell had become strong, and the sky was now almost solidly clouded. “Usually means a storm’s comin’. Ankole, check the radar.”  
  
“Sir, yes, sir.” Gunvar took a field scanner from his belt pouch and tapped on it for a few moments. “Yup. Level two, north by northeast, with winds at 16 kilometers per—”  
  
He was interrupted by a horrific  _craaack_ as a huge bolt of lighting struck a nearby outcropping, splitting it in two. Seconds later a loud clap of thunder followed, nearly bowling over the four Guardsmen, and rain poured down in a mighty cloudburst, driven by the building wind. Another lightning bolt hit the summit, and another, each followed by a roar of thunder, and soon lightning could be seen flashing wildly over the surrounding peaks.  
  
“All right, move it, Guards! We gotta get to shelter! This way!” Zeb shouted, clambering madly over the crags and gesturing to the others to follow him. He smiled to himself, even as he rushed to outrun and outclimb the storm—for he had studied that topographical map and knew exactly where he would take them...  
  


* * *

  
Several minutes later, four tired, soaked, breathless Honor Guards sat panting on the floor of the cave in the north face of Mount Sketh. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were panting, an occasional “karabast,” Velibor grumbling that his foot hurt, and the dull roar of the storm outside.  
  
“Sir, what do we do now, sir?” inquired Corporal Stultzfoss at last.  
  
“What we’ve been doing,” Zeb replied, standing up. Stultzfoss rose as well. “What Captain Porifiros ordered us to do. Scout the area. Take readings. Assess tactical viability. A cave like this can make a good temporary base of operations or a hiding place for a sniper or somethin’. Or not, if it’s inhabited by, say, giant Lasat-eating multi-leggers.” He shrugged. “Won’t know till we look. You two comin’?” he asked the other two Guardsmen, who remained seated timorously on the ground.  
  
“I-I can’t get up,” moaned Velibor, shaking his foot in an exaggerated manner. “My foot hurts. I think I broke it.”  
  
“Aw, nonsense,” Zeb grunted, arms crossed. “There’s no way it’s broken. You’re wigglin’ it around like you’re doin’ the Funky Quadduck Dance.”  
  
“But it really, really hurts.” Velibor’s voice was earnest.  
  
Zeb rolled his eyes. Trust Junior Lieutenant Bantha Chops to be totally useless under these circumstances. “Probably just sprained, then. Just put an Eca bandage on there or somethin’. Should have one in your—”  
  
“H-here, I-I’ll stay here and h-help him!” Gunvar piped up suddenly, then began fumbling madly in his belt pouch. “N-now, let’s s-see here… w-where’s that thing… oh k-karabast, I think I forgot to p-pack one… V-vel, mind if I—” He reached over and began fumbling in Velibor’s belt pouch, causing Velibor to tumble to the side with a shriek of pain and several curses.  
  
“Aw, for the Bogan’s sake, you two!” Zeb growled. “My little brother had more gumption than you when he was a  _fourteen-year-old kit!_  Fine. Ankole, you can stay here and get this useless nerfbrain bandaged up. Stultzfoss, with me.”  
  
“Sir, yes, sir.” The corporal saluted.  
  
“Field scanner at the ready. Set to alarm for lifeforms. Who knows what we’ll meet down there.”  
  
“Sir, yes, sir,” Stultzfoss said again, taking a small field scanner from his belt pouch, adjusted a few of settings, and clipped it to his belt before following Zeb deeper into the cave.  
  
They walked on for some time in silence, activating their glowrods as the last glimmers of light from the cave entrance dwindled away. The path grew narrower and began to spiral slowly downward, into the heart of the mountain. The air became close, and the jagged rock felt moist beneath their feet; more than once Zeb twitched at the sensation of some tiny, many-legged lifeform skittering over his toes. But all the while he kept his eyes steadily on the path ahead, looking out for obstacles or danger, while the corporal maintained a close watch on the scanner.  
  
“Sir, a question, sir,” Corporal Stultzfoss said at last.  
  
“What is it, Corporal?”  
  
“Sir, the younger brother you mentioned, sir… do you mean Cadet Garashai Orrelios, sir?”  
  
“Yeah, that would be him.” Zeb smiled with the pride at the thought of young Shai, who had recently entered the Royal Lasan Military Academy. “You know him?”  
  
“Sir, we all know him, sir. He told us all the story of the time you saved him from the dust storm five years ago, sir.”  
  
“Has he, now?”  _Sounds like Shai, all right..._  
  
“Sir, yes, sir. And sir, when I told him I was going to be assigned to your subunit, he said, ‘Gron! You lucky Bogan, you! You get to serve under—’” He coughed nervously. “Er—um—”  
  
“ _Zebby,_ ” Zeb interposed, chuckling despite himself. “You can say it, Corporal.”  
  
“—‘you get to serve under, er,  _Zebby._ ’” Stultzfoss coughed again, then added, “Sir.”  
  
Zeb chuckled again. “Yeah, you’re quite the lucky Bogan indeed, Corporal. Clamberin’ up mountains in the freezin’ cold… trudgin’ through dark, dank, musty caves with little crawly things skitterin’ over your feet every thirty seconds… not to mention the ozone…” He paused for a moment, wondering to himself what Shai would think of the Basalt Mountains. Someday, once he graduated from the Military Academy, maybe he would come here for maneuvers with a subunit of his own. And someday he might even be searching for the same thing Zeb was searching for now...  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by strident beeping from Stultzfoss’s scanner. Both of the Guardsmen stopped in their tracks. Stultzfoss took the device from his belt and looked at its readout. “Sir, the scanner is picking up motion 256.6 meters ahead… and underground, sir.”  
  
“Hmmm. Details? Lifeform? Vehicle? Somethin’ else?”  
  
“Sir, indeterminate, sir.” Stultzfoss adjusted a control on the scanner, stopping the beeping. “But, sir, if I can get closer, I might be able to get better readings, sir… with your permission, sir.”  
  
“Sure, go right ahead.”  
  
“Sir, thanks, sir.” Stultzfoss saluted crisply, then marched on ahead down the passage ahead of his commander, holding both the scanner and the glowrod before him. Zeb followed, trying as best he could to keep the beam of his own glowrod trained on his subordinate, though it was difficult to keep up with the younger Guardsman’s swift, eager pace.  
  
He had gone about 150 meters when he heard the beeping of the scanner once again, this time more quickly and more urgently—and saw Stultzfoss round a bend in the passage up ahead. Zeb’s prehensile feet stole deftly over the crags of the cave floor as he picked up his pace. Whatever it was the scanner had picked up before was certainly very close now, and there was no way he was going to let the youngest member of his subunit out of his sight, out of his protection...  
  
“AAAGHHH!!” Stultzfoss’s sudden scream rent the air, followed at once by a gruesome  _thud-crack._  
  
“Hold on! I’m comin’!” Zeb drew his bo-rifle and ran as fast as he could down the passage and around the bend—then skidded to a halt in front of a large, dark pit blocking his path.  
  
 _Karabast, no…!_  
  
 **to be continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cpl. Tarbigron Stultzfoss: My full name for Gron of "Legends of the Lasat," based on the name Stoltzfuss, literally “proud foot.”
> 
> Garashai “Shai” Orrelios is Raissa Baiard’s OC, borrowed with gratitude, and he appears in several other Lasan Series stories as well.
> 
> VibroAxe spray is Raissa’s creation as well. Three guesses which RL product it’s based on. :P


	3. Chapter 3

“Stultzfoss!” Zeb shouted into the depths of the pit. “You down there?! You all right?!”  
  
“Help! Help! Lieutenant Orr—” Stultzfoss’s muffled cry was immediately swallowed up in a grisly cacophony: a raucous clatter as of many giant chitinous appendages, the scrape of metal being dragged against rock, and a gut-churningly loud, wet, hungry snuffling noise.  
  
“I’m comin’!” Zeb pulled his grappling hook from his belt pouch and lowered himself into the pit. Again he ran forward with his bo-rifle drawn—then stopped suddenly when he saw what was before him.  
  
He was in a large, round cavern whose vaultlike ceiling shone with a faint greenish phosphorescence. The walls were were richly crusted with crystal deposits of all colors and shapes, but most of them were blanketed with sticky yellow-white gauze, and clusters of giant, gauze-covered whitish globules—probably some kind of egg sacs—were nestled between and around the deposits, partially covering them. A sickly-sweet smell hung in the air, and patches of the sticky gauze squelched underfoot. But most horrifying of all was the being at the center of the cavern: a large, segmented, wormlike creature with seemingly dozens of jointed chitinous legs. It was a crawler of some kind—and it had pinned a squirming, screaming Corporal Stultzfoss beneath its front appendages and was now snapping at him hungrily with giant, nasty-looking mandibles.  
  
_Aw karabast,_  Zeb thought to himself.  _And here I thought I’d been just kidding about giant Lasat-eating multi-leggers..._  
  
Reflexively he fired off several shots at the creature. A few hit between its segments, surprising it momentarily but not fazing it; most hit its chitinous carapace and had no effect. It continued its attack on Stultzfoss, slavering sticky ooze all over the young corporal as it wrenched off one plate of his chest armor and and gobbled it noisily up. Its jaws snapped threateningly as it lunged for the next plate; Stultzfoss writhed and struggled but could not free himself.   
  
_All right, if that’s how it’s gonna be…_  In one swift motion Zeb swung his bo-rifle open into staff mode. He rushed at the crawler, growling and gnashing, and plunged the crackling purple plasma-blade into the soft tissue between its head and neck segments. The monster let out a bloodcurdling shriek as viscous black blood spurted from the wound. It lurched violently to one side, losing its grip on Stultzfoss—but then lunged toward Zeb, hissing angrily as it caught his bo-rifle in its jaws.  
  
“NO YA DON’T!!” Zeb yanked his weapon free and thrust its crackling tip down full force into one of the monster’s eyes, reducing the black orb to a sizzling, shriveled mass. It shrieked and lunged again; Zeb jumped backward from its reach onto one of the egg clusters but felt his back scrape one of the gauze-webbed crystal formations on the wall. The dripping jaws loomed nearer and nearer...  
  
_Clink!_ From seemingly nowhere a concave, oval-shaped piece of gray-green metal hit one of the crawler’s mandibles and rattled to the floor. Turning suddenly away from Zeb, the monster shuffled toward it and probed at it with its numerous mouthparts and feelers. Another similar piece of metal followed, clinking onto the floor beside the first, and the creature probed it as well. After a few moments, a half-wet, half-metallic smacking sound could be heard as it started nibbling on one of the metal pieces.  
  
Taking advantage of the situation, Zeb hurried over toward Stultzfoss. The corporal had lifted himself to sitting; he was out of breath but other than a few cuts and scrapes seemed none the worse for wear. For some reason he seemed to be adjusting or refastening one of his knee guards. Zeb noticed that his shoulder armor was gone. Was that what had gone flying at the monster a moment ago? Not that there was any time to speculate—the main thing now was to get the both of them out of there, and quick.  
  
“You all right, Stultzfoss?” Zeb asked as he came up and crouched beside him.  
  
The younger Guardsman saluted in reply. “Sir, I’m fine, sir. Just a little worn out, sir.”  
  
“Good. Now c’mon, let’s getcha outta here before that thing eats us both.” Zeb offered a hand to raise Stultzfoss to his feet, but the corporal was still occupied with his knee armor.   
  
“What the Bogan’re you doin’, Corporal?! C’mon, we need to get out NOW!”  
  
“Sir… if you could please give me just another moment, sir… I’m distracting it, sir.”  
  
“Whaddaya mean,  _distracting it,_  Guardsman?!”  
  
“Sir, please, sir… you see, sir, it wasn’t trying to eat  _me,_ just my armor, sir… and my bo-rifle, too, sir, but of course I would never let  _that_  happen, sir.” He paused to pull off the knee guard and throw it in the direction of the crawler, which was still gnawing at the second shoulder plate. “Sir, this way we still have time to scout the area and assess tactical viability, sir.”  
  
“Corporal, this is the lair of a giant, multi-legged, metal-eating crawler. It is not, and never will be, tactically viable.”  _All those crystal formations, though…_  Zeb paused for a moment and looked around gauze-cocooned but still colorful deposits lining the walls.  _This might just be my chance to find somethin’..._  
  
“Right,” he said at last. “If you think you can distract it long enough, we can at least take some readings. I’ll take the scanner. You cover me and get your other knee guard ready. Looks like it’s almost finished with your shoulder plate.”  
  
“Sir, yes, sir.” The corporal began unfastening his other knee guard. “I... guess I’ll have to explain this to Supply Sergeant Skaavatou, sir.”  
  
“Aw, he’ll understand. A Guard’s gotta do what a Guard’s gotta do. Now c’mon.”  
  
He lifted Stultzfoss to his feet, and together they made their way carefully around the edge of the cavern. Corporal Stultzfoss went first, keeping his eye on the crawler, which was now snarfing away at his first knee guard; he held the other at the ready to throw to it the moment it finished. Zeb followed with the scanner in hand, his eyes moving in a regular rotation from the scanner to his subordinate to the crystals that grew on the walls in patterns as erratic and beautiful as lifeforms.  _This is more like it,_  he thought to himself;  _this is the Mount Sketh we all know._  There was flashing chrysoberyl, creamy rose quartz, lambent citrine, and brilliant white bladequartz—representing joy, purity, enlightenment, and beauty, if Zeb was remembering aright from that booklet he had checked out from the base library. Thing was, any of them would fit. Karabast, this was going to be a tough decision… and he was going to have to think quick, what with the crawler and all...  
  
The Guardsmen had made almost a full circuit of the cavern when Zeb came upon a narrow fissure-like opening in one wall, half-hidden among the rocky crags. It was big enough to admit a Lasat but much too small for the crawler. Warm air flowed from the opening; Zeb noticed that the egg clusters near it seemed slightly larger and darker than most of the others in the cavern. A faint reddish glow shone within.  _Any more crystals down this way?_  he wondered.  _Worth investigating, perhaps..._  
  
He stopped and beckoned to his subordinate. “Stultzfoss. This way. Behind me.”  
  
“Sir, yes, sir.”  
  
Together they entered. Zeb double-checked the settings of the scanner as he noticed that a few of the eggs just inside had ruptured already.  _Karabast, not more of ’em_ … “An’ watch out. There may be… er… baby crawlers in here.”  
  
“Sir, er… yes, sir.”  
  
**to be continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crystal crawler is a fanon creature.
> 
> Supply Sergeant Skaavatou: An OC and the quartermaster of the Lasan High Honor Guard. He is first mentioned in chapter 1 of Raissa Baiard’s The Beginning of Honor, though this is the first time he’s named. (His full name is Droglak Skaavatou, for what it’s worth. :D )


	4. Chapter 4

The two Guardsmen proceeded singlefile down the passage, holding their glowrods before them. For several minutes they followed the winding, narrow path deeper and deeper into the mountain, hearing nothing except occasional drops of water and seeing nothing but the rocky walls and the strange dim, reddish glow. As they walked, Zeb began to see where it was coming from: the natural phosphorescence of the cave walls was filtering through tiny, faint, reddish mineral deposits.  _This could be promising…_  He walked on, and the corporal dutifully followed. The air grew warmer and warmer around them as they went.  
  
The scanner beeped. There was a faint clicking-clattering sound up ahead, the sound of chitinous feet skittering on rock. Zeb drew his bo-rifle and motioned for Stultzfoss to do the same. They picked up their pace; the red glow ahead of them shone brighter and brighter with each step, and the red deposits on the walls began to thicken and unite into veins.   
  
At last they halted at the edge of a deep, warm, bubbling mineral spring that filled the bottom of a tall, narrow, cylindrical cavern. The red crystal veins swirled lavishly over the jagged walls, with clusters of purple-red crystals occasionally blossoming from them like small flowers, till they all came together in a single huge, magnificent, glistening cluster high above the spring’s far side. Three baby crawlers—each about the length and thickness of a full-grown Lasat’s lower leg—sat at the edge of the water, lapping at it thirstily and taking no notice of the two newcomers.  
  
Zeb reset the scanner, then stowed his bo-rifle; Corporal Stultzfoss did so as well. For several moments both of them stood still, taking in their curious surroundings. Finally Zeb went up to one of the crystal growths on the wall and examined it carefully in the light of his glowrod. It was a striking deep red-purple in color, with brilliant gold flecks and streaks running through it. Zeb thought back to the booklet from the base library. He was pretty sure red meant love or something. And gold—that was eternity, wasn’t it? Love and eternity—karabast, that would be perfect! And it was awfully pretty stuff, one couldn’t deny that.  
  
But these little crusty bits on the walls were much too small. Zeb’s eyes wandered to the large, gleaming cluster at the other side of the spring, and he thought for a moment.  
  
“Excuse me for a moment, Corporal,” he said at last, handing Stultzfoss the scanner.  
  
“Sir, yes, sir, but…” The corporal trailed off. His commander was already clambering swiftly along the walls of the cavern, directly above the hot, bubbling waters of the spring, gripping the rocky outcroppings with both hands and both feet. Only a few times did he lose his grip, and each time he regained it. He did not stop until he reached the opposite wall of the cavern. Once there he paused for a moment, considering his next move. Just above and to the side of the crystal cluster was a narrow ledge of rock. Reaching up to it with one hand, then the other, Zeb managed to swing himself up onto it, then shifted himself with some difficulty into a crouch facing the cluster.  _Right, almost there..._  
  
Steadying himself with his feet and one hand, Zeb used the other to unsheath his utility knife. Carefully he began to chisel away at the rock, working steadily until he had extracted an irregularly shaped but sizable chunk from the most brilliant part of the cluster.  
  
“Whew! Got it!” he exclaimed. He replaced his knife and looked for a moment at the piece of crystal he had hewn. Even in the dim light of the cavern it glittered like dancing flame.  
  
“Sir?” Stultzfoss inquired from below. With some difficulty Zeb looked over his shoulder at him. The younger Guardsman was standing stock-still at the edge of the spring, gazing up at his commander with wide, awed eyes. Zeb smiled down at him and held up the chunk of crystal in a friendly wave. All Stultzfoss could do was wave back and watch as Zeb tucked the crystal gently into his belt pouch, swung down from the ledge, and made his way back down along the walls.   
  
“Sir,” Stultzfoss said once Zeb joined him on the ground. “Er... if I may have permission to say so, sir...”  
  
“Yeah, go ahead.”  
  
“Sir... congratulations, sir.”  
  
“Thanks, Corporal.”  
  
Together they walked back through the passage and back through the lair where the crawler lay asleep, gorged and snuffling, and hoisted themselves with their grappling hooks back to the cave’s upper level.   
  


* * *

  
Gunvar and Velibor were waiting for them at the top of the pit. Zeb greeted them both with punches to the upper arm; Velibor wobbled exaggeratedly on his bandaged foot as he did so. “I see you two moof-milkers finally decided to show up.”  
  
“We were gettin’ worried!” Gunvar threw up his hands. “Where the Bogan  _were_  you two, anyway?”  
  
Zeb shrugged. “Just scoutin’ the area. Takin’ readings. Assessin’ tactical viability. That kinda thing. Now let’s get goin’. Storm’s probably over by now, and we still got the summit to do.”  
  
As they walked, Velibor eyed the bulge of the crystal in Zeb’s belt pouch. “So, did you find a nice shiny rock, or are you just happy to see us?”  
  
Gunvar shoved him. “It’s not in the right spot for that, you boulderbrain!”  
  
“Oh, but you know how things can sometimes move around—”  
  
“Glad to see you two are up on your basic anatomy.” Zeb’s voice cut him off. “Yes, Lieutenant, as a matter of fact, I did find somethin’. An’ it’s much nicer than any tacky knickknack from Suarovik’s, I might add.”  
  
“Do we get to see?”  
  
“Maybe,” Zeb chuckled, smirking. “If you promise me you won’t gripe about your foot anymore.”  
  
“Hey, why’s Gron only got one knee guard?” Gunvar piped up suddenly. “An’ where’d all his armor go?”  
  
“You can ask  _him_  that, y’know.”  
  
“Yeah, where’d all your armor go, Gron?”  
  
“Sir, it’s a long story, sir.”  
  
Velibor sniffed. “Supply Sergeant Skaavatou is going to hang you up for the convorees, you realize.”  
  
Stultzfoss just shrugged. “Sir, a Guard’s gotta do what a Guard’s gotta do, sir.”  
  
He cracked a smile as he spoke; Zeb turned and smiled back. The four Guardsmen walked on, and it was not long before they found themselves once again on the cold, clear slopes of Mount Sketh.  
  


* * *

  
That evening, as ordered, Zeb and his men presented Captain Porifiros with a full report on the topography, environmental conditions, and tactical viability of the summit region of Mount Sketh. They gave an account of all that had befallen them, from the storm to the cave to the crawler to Velibor’s foot. (“It really, really hurt,” the junior lieutenant was careful to add, whereupon the captain replied that he could tell that to Senior Lieutenant Esclepios once they got back to base.) On the whole, however, the captain commended them on their efforts, and went on to specially recognize Senior Lieutenant Orrelios and Corporal Stultzfoss for their valor and resourcefulness in the crawler’s lair. Furthermore, he said, he looked forward to communicating their findings to the geological ministry and to the ministry of the military. Then he dismissed them.   
  
On his way back to the barracks, Zeb felt a cordial punch to his shoulder as his bunkmate and fellow senior lieutenant, Groz Spargstaung, came up beside him. “Hey, pal. Glad to see you back and in one piece.”  
  
“Thanks, you too, Groz.”  
  
“How’d it all go?”  
  
“All right, all right… how ’bout you?”  
  
“Just fine… bit of a storm but no real trouble. Say, uh, Zeb…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Didja manage to find the… y’know, the, um… the  _thing?_ ”  
  
“Well, er…” Zeb glanced around, making sure there were no inquisitive comrades nearby to eavesdrop. “Yeah, but…”  
  
“So, let’s see it.”  
  
It was not Groz who spoke but Captain Porifiros, who now stood behind them, arms crossed. Zeb and Groz spun around and saluted nervously.  
  
“Sir! Well—er—”  _Aw karabast, I’m gonna get it now for sure,_  he thought.  _Shoulda known this is what would come of tryin’ to fit this in during recon maneuvers._ “Well—er—you—see—sir—”  
  
The captain crossed his arms sternly. “Show us, Lieutenant. That’s a direct order.”  
  
“Sir… yes, sir.” Slowly and sheepishly, Zeb removed the red crystal from his belt pouch and held it up for the captain and Groz to see. Groz whistled admiringly; the captain’s face was still stern and set.  
  
“Hand it here.”  
  
“Sir-yes-sir….” Zeb did so. The captain spent several moments examining the stone, turning it over in his hands and squinting at it closely, all the while nodding and hemming thoughtfully.  
  
“Kreposkolite,” he said. “You mentioned that in your report. Malamut used it for the focusing crystals in the AB-70 back in the day, you know, before they merged with LasanCorp. Switched to sardite for the J-19… but I think they went back to kreposkolite in the AB-75s you boys have… that’d explain why they’ve got that  _spark,_  y’know.” He handed the stone back to Zeb with a brisk nod. “Yes, very nice, Orrelios. A fitting token indeed.” Then he added, leaning closer: “She’ll be most impressed.”  
  
Zeb felt warmth rise in his face. “Sir, er... yes, sir… I mean, er… thank you, sir.”  
  
“All right, you two are dismissed. And my heartiest congratulations to ya, Lieutenant.”  
  
“Sir, thank you, sir,” was Zeb’s hurried reply as his commander thumped him vigorously on the back. Then he and Groz snapped off one last quick salute before making their way as quickly as they could back to the barracks.  
  


* * *

  
Before he retired for the night, Zeb took the kreposkolite crystal from his gear locker once more. He held it, felt it, looked at it—its striking red-purple color, its thousand brilliant blade-facets, the way those facets burst into a million iridescent gleams even in the dull light of the barracks. It really was perfect, if he did say so himself.  
  
But nothing less than perfection would do for the one who was more precious and lovely than any gem hewn from the mountain’s heart...  
  
He sat on his bunk. Beside it, on a makeshift wooden bracket-shelf, a holoimage leaned against the wall. It showed a Lasat woman, young and beautiful, with long purple-black hair, eyes of deep emerald, and delicate, wine-colored stripes that glided gracefully over her lilac cheeks. Zeb’s leaf-green eyes widened with love and awe as he set his radiant treasure on the shelf, directly in front of the holo. It was to be this lovely lady’s betrothal stone, signifying his eternal love and promise to her according to ancient Lasat custom.   
  
“For you, darlin’,” he breathed. “Forever.”  
  
He kissed his fingertips and touched them gently to the beloved image. Then Senior Lieutenant Garazeb Orrelios, of the 8th Squadron of the Third Honor Guard Division, lay down to rest from his day’s toils, surrendering himself to peaceful sleep and tender dreams.  
  
 **the end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Senior Lieutenant Esclepios is Raissa Baiard’s OC; he is the field medic who examines Zeb in chapter 4 of The Beginning of Honor. 
> 
> The young woman in the holo is of course my OC Shulma Trilasha, who appears in other stories in this series as well.


End file.
